Dismantle Repair
by Breaking.Down.Slowly
Summary: Bella is a bulimic with a horrible past. Edward is a highly successful and sought after doctor with a few secrets of his own. Can they fix each other or are they both doomed? AU, AH, OOC SOME DARK/HEAVY/SENSITIVE THEMES
1. Chapter 1

**So, this story's been bugging me for a while. I spent an entire weekend doing research and getting stories off the Internet and from people I talk to about what it's like to be bulimic. This story, unlike Breaking Beauty, is going to be completely realistic...well as much as fiction really can be. It's by no means a cheery story, so if that's what you were hoping for, you picked the wrong story.**

**The title of this story is based off the song by Anberlin. I even dissected it into parts as to who it fits and where and yeah. Gorgeous song. **

**And as I said in the recent Breaking Beauty chapter, BB is my number one priority. Updates on this will be VERY slow until I finish the other story. I'm thinking I might up chapter two, which is Edward's story, towards the end of the month? Ish? I don't know. Once I'm out of school, updates will be better.**

**I don't own blah blah blah and much thanks to the lovely people at Project Team Beta for betaing this.**

* * *

*1*

I couldn't tell you what day of the week it was. I couldn't tell you what color my shirt was. I couldn't even tell you if it was day or night. But I still remember the moment my childhood ended with a clarity that scares me sometimes.

I was freshly nine years old. We had just celebrated my birthday with cake and presents and the whole out celebration. My mom had even cooked my favorite dinner – chicken fingers with corn on the cob. My cake was shaped like a Barbie doll and was the smoothest chocolate I'd ever had. My mom had gotten me Barbie's Dream House, complete with movable furniture and a miniature bathroom. I was confident that this was my best birthday ever. What could beat a Barbie Dream House?

I spent hours with that little house and its miniature rooms. Barbie and Ken were happily moved in and were going to bed when I realized I had to go to the bathroom. We only had one bathroom in our little bungalow, and I knew I had to knock if the door was closed. I would hear strange noises from behind the door sometimes, but I thought it was nothing. Mommy still looked fine, so what monsters could've attacked? I never would've thought they were her personal, inner monsters.

I skipped to the bathroom, happier than I thought it was possible to be, and found the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open just a little more and there was my mom. There was the end of my childhood.

She was on her knees, leaning over the toilet. Her blonde hair had fallen from its neatly arranged bun, shielding her face, but not the noises coming from her mouth. Her form seemed skinnier than I'd ever remembered, absolutely swimming in her pink flower – covered black dress. Her feet had lost their shoes and the pantyhose she wore had holes in them.

I squealed, thinking she was sick, and I remember the look she gave me. Her eyes were bloodshot, red, and swollen. Her lips were dry and cracked and her right hand – pointer finger still straight out – was just inches away. As she turned, her hair became messier, and the clip clattered to the floor. She stood shakily, using the wall for support. There were holes in the knees of her pantyhose from where she landed on the floor, and her dress was crooked.

I cowered away and whimpered softly, hating the thought that my mommy, my superhero, could be sick.

"You stupid bitsh." She slurred. She took a moment to spit in the sink. "You know you're not supposed to come in here when the door is closed."

"B– but it wasn't closed. I just had to go potty. Mommy, are you sick?" I was such a naïve little girl. My mother had sheltered me well from the demons in the world, and in herself.

"No, no I'm not. Just… don't tell anybody what you saw, okay? Promise me?" She stood in front of me now, grasping my bony shoulders and shaking me slightly.

"I promise, Mommy," I sobbed. My mother had always seemed so put together and in control. I didn't understand why she was throwing up if she wasn't sick. Why would she seem so upset about it anyway? She was allowed to be sick. My nine year old mind simply didn't understand what my older mind embraced.

She nodded and pushed me towards my room. "Go get ready for bed. When you're done getting ready and cleaning up you can come back and use the bathroom."

My mother didn't realize what she had done at the time. She didn't realize that I was broken beyond repair from that one night. _I_ didn't even know it yet. I don't remember feeling anything beyond confusion then. What was my mommy doing if she wasn't sick? Maybe I had gone into shock or maybe I was just learning to stay unattached earlier than I thought. Either way, I knew things could never be the same again.

I listened and diligently followed the directions I was given. I shut the door to my room behind me and looked at the Barbie Dream House.

Suddenly, there was nothing dreamy or perfect about it.

Suddenly, it was just another prop in the façade my mother had created.

***

I started middle school, and then there was Jacob Black. He was taller than any person I'd ever seen; I was convinced he was Shaq's brother. He was Native American by birth, including the tanned skin and black hair. He was strong and it definitely showed. He wore his hair long until he turned twelve, when I was still ten. Then he kept it at a constant buzz cut, probably because he had decided he wanted to join the Army.

"My ancestors fought to keep even small portions of this land," he would say. "I refuse to let the little we have left taken away as well."

I followed him around school as if he was keeping me alive. He was always with his equally-impressive Native American friends, the only girl in their group being Leah Clearwater, and she was only there because her brother was. Jake never dated, but he was as friendly as any little puppy. I loved him with every fiber of my ten-year-old self.

When I was eleven, I had told my friends, Lauren and Jessica, about my crush on him. Unfortunately, they didn't tell me that Lauren also had a crush on Jake. To get back at me for wanting the guy Lauren did, they told Jake all about my "love" for him. They told him I would take pictures of him when he wasn't looking, post them on my wall, and make out with them. Apparently, I also went to his house and stood outside his window at night, hoping to see him changing clothes.

During lunch that day, I sat there eating the apple I had meticulously cut up the night before, when he tapped me on the shoulder. My heart fluttered, and I thought I would swoon right there as he confessed his love for me. I would be the only eleven–year–old girl in the entire school to have a thirteen–year–old boyfriend. A gorgeous one at that. Me, little Bella Swan, the luckiest girl in school.

"You fucking stalker. Why the fuck would you stand outside my room at night, you sicko? What's your fucking problem? Stay the hell away from me, you freak. I want nothing to do with you, you little slut. Don't talk to me anymore, don't even look at me. I want absolutely _nothing_ to do with you!" he shouted, making sure the entire cafeteria could hear him.

_What did I do?_ I was confused again, something that seemed to happen constantly since I discovered my mother's secret. Why would he call me out like this? What could I have done that he would curse at me so much?

My face flushed, and tears filled my eyes. "Jake, I – "

"I told you not to talk to me." He bellowed before walking away. Lauren and Jessica snickered from where his friends usually sat, where _he _usually sat. He sat down and muttered something, sending them into an outright cackle. They turned to me and glowered, and by then I couldn't hold in the tears any longer. They raced down my cheeks like rain drops, causing me to flee from the cafeteria. I left my book bag behind, as well as my French text book, and my perfectly cut apple.

That was the day that I truly learned that nothing is ever as perfect as it seems.

***

I ran out of the school and all the way to my house that day. I couldn't stay there, where I'd been so utterly humiliated. Flat–out broken in front of four thousand kids. There wasn't a chance in hell that I would stay there.

I felt sick to my stomach. I was being weighed down by something, and I wanted to get rid of it. I wanted to get rid of everything. Jake. Lauren. Jessica. School. Myself. I mostly wanted to get rid of myself.

I thought back to Renée–sure it wasn't proper to use first names when addressing your parents, but after ruining my childhood, was I really supposed to call her mommy? – And I thought about how she took care of her problems. She was always calm, cool, and collected. And she was beautiful. Skinny and gorgeous, always getting guys to fall for her. I was the ugly duckling, with my gangly limbs and lanky brown hair and bug like brown eyes. She used to tell me it was just a part of puberty and growing up, but I thought it was bull. Jessica and Lauren had curves that guys wanted. I had a twig of a body with limbs that were too big.

Renée was perfect and gorgeous, and everyone loved her. Not to mention, she was _happy_. Maybe if I was more like her, if I did what she did, I would be happy too. And everyone would love me, and I would be perfect and gorgeous.

My mom wasn't home yet, so I simply plucked the key from the flower pot where we kept it and let myself in. The usual humming from Renée was absent, as well as the music on the radio she played when she wasn't humming, making the house feel eerie and surreal. I re–locked the door, just for good measure, and hurried into the bathroom before I could change my mind.

I pulled back my hair the best I could and leaned over the toilet. I stared at the water and hesitated before opening my mouth, and sticking in my pointer finger. I gagged a few times, but the weight wouldn't leave. I thought about using a fork or spoon, but decided it would hurt too much and leave clear evidence of my shame. I looked at the counter and an object I could use dawned on me.

I grabbed my toothbrush and opened my mouth and suddenly, I was weightless. Lighter than air. _Free._ It was impossible that I was still in that bathroom. I was in London, Paris, Rome, Heaven; wearing dresses made out of gold that still felt light as a feather. I was an angel, better than Renee and Jessica and Lauren. Jacob wanted me, body and soul, forever. I was free.

I pulled away from the porcelain bowl, gasping for air. With each intake, I could feel the itch in my throat. My lips were as dry as my throat, and my toothbrush was beyond repair. I wrapped it carefully in tissues and set it in the garbage can. I stood up slowly, unsure of my own footing, and looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, and there was red streak going through my left eye. A broken blood vessel, perhaps. My lips were almost white and my cheeks had puffed out a little. My hands shook as I turned on the cold water and filled the cup with it. I took a small swig of water and spit it out before greedily drinking the rest of the cup's contents, feeling my throat slowly become less rough and watching my lips become slightly pinker.

I wet a wash cloth with some cold water and let it lie on my face for a moment. Then I pulled it off and dabbed at my cheeks and hairline. I grabbed the brush still sitting on the counter from this morning and removed the cloth. I brushed out my hair roughly, almost needing the pain to bring me back to earth. I prayed Renée wouldn't notice.

I sighed, knowing that I couldn't explain why I'd left my stuff at school and come home early. My only option would be to walk back to the school, get my stuff, and wait in the bathroom until school was over. Then I would go stand outside the school, and she would pick me up and ask how school was, and I would smile, and assure her it was wonderful. I would entertain her with a story about my wacky science teacher and Jessica's newest crush and she would believe every word of it.

I repeated the thought to myself, letting it become my mantra, because I knew if I didn't make myself believe it would work, it never would.

***

Renée and I lived in our own little worlds for the next four years. I'd binge once a day, usually just after dinner, and then purge. As time went by, I proudly upgraded from a toothbrush to my finger by itself.

Renée continued to purge as well, several times a day. Maybe if I thought of her having bulimia, I would've noticed how much time she spent locked up, but I hadn't. Now I could notice when she was in the bathroom for more than twenty minutes, because I knew what I was looking for. She never asked about me since the day it started. Did she know? Probably, but she kept it to herself. And that was all that mattered.

I lost weight and confidence at the same rate. With every pound I dropped, there was a small victory, then the belief I had to lose more hit with an overwhelming force. Could an insecure teenage girl battle such a thing? Like fuck she could. I was weak and puny and stupid. Who was I to try to beat my own monster? My own dictator? Renée couldn't do it, so why should I?

Lauren and Jessica stayed away from me. The day after–I knew it was pathetic, but I had started to measure time in terms of 'before my first purge' and 'after my first purge'–they attempted to approach me. They apologized and spouted bull like it was the honest-to-God truth, and they were saints in a world of sinners. I told them that they should fuck off if they wanted to keep their nose jobs intact.

After just a month of binging and purging, I noticed more guys looking at me. _Jacob_ looked at me. I told myself not to care, that any man that only liked me because I vomited up my food every day wasn't the man for me. But still… it was _Jacob_. I flirted like any common slut did, shamelessly and obnoxiously, but I never did anything else. Tease them to the edge and let somebody else push them over. A flirt I was, but I refused to degrade myself any further and become a full fledged whore.

And above all, I was happy. When I purged, I was free: flying away. How could I be in little old Phoenix when I felt so wonderful and above this earth? Everything worked perfectly. I kept away weight, I stayed skinny, I stayed happy, I got attention. What more could a teenage girl want?

I made sure to keep my grades up as high school began. I'd always known what I did was a disgusting habit, but by age fourteen I was realizing that it was actually a disorder. I figured that once I left here, and went to college, my problems would go away, even my bulimia, and my life would still be perfect. I just had to maintain the best possible grades so I could get into an amazing school as far away from Lauren, Jessica, my mother, this school, and Phoenix, as possible.

Four years after it began, when I was just fifteen, Phil entered our lives. Renée had met him while grocery shopping, in the ice cream aisle of course. How Renée, the zaniest, wackiest, most insane, untraditional person met a guy in such a normal way will forever befuddle me.

Phil was everything Renée needed. He was smart and quiet, strong but playful. He played in a local minor league baseball team and coached baseball for little kids when he could. He had a steady job, a lot of money, and appreciated girls that had a healthy appetite. When he walked into our lives, I was sure he'd find out about Renée's secret, and maybe mine. Then he could get at least one of us to stop the insane habits we couldn't end on our own. Phil would be the man to overthrow our dictators, I was sure of it.

Several weeks after they began dating, Phil was over so he could take Renée to a movie. She had excused herself to the bathroom, probably to purge her dinner and then do her hair and makeup. Phil and I sat on the couch and watched a sitcom, whatever Renée had left on the TV really. With the way she worked on her hair and make-up after a purge, it would be about an hour before they would leave.

In one movement, a movement I didn't even notice, Phil grasped my hand. I tried to pull my hand away, but from there he managed to pin me underneath him on the couch. He ripped my shirt clean in two, my sweats and panties only moving down to my knees. I closed my eyes and pretended that it wasn't happening. I pretended that it was all just a horrible nightmare and Renée would wake me up with her obnoxious hollering any moment.

The pain was excruciating and relentless on my fragile body. I kept my eyes clothes, telling myself that once I counted from one to one hundred it would all be done. Then if I counted to two hundred I would wake up. Finally I couldn't take it anymore I told myself if I ever reached a thousand I'd have to kill myself.

He raped me that night, and Renée never knew.

"God you're so _tight_," he cried as he finished, and I reached six hundred ninety two. He lay on top of me gasping, while I tried my hardest not to cry and show any weakness.

He pulled himself up slowly and stared down at me for a moment. He reminded me of a caveman in that moment, and it scared me enough to make the tears overflow.

"You know, considering that your whorish mother is bulimic, I would've hoped you'd catch on. You're so fucking fat. Do you eat an entire horse every day or something, fat ass?" I cried harder as he pulled on his pants and smoothed his hair. "Oh great, you're a fucking baby too? Stop blubbering, Shamu." He sneered and went into the kitchen for a beer.

I bit my lip to hold back a sob and gathered my clothes. I checked carefully to make sure he wasn't following and ran for my room. I cried harder as I thought I felt the floor shaking with each pounding step my little feet took.

Slamming the door behind me, I dropped my clothes and locked the door. I walked cautiously to the mirror on my closet door and stood back. I looked straight at myself, poking my swollen cheeks first. I ran my hands over my flat breasts and sighed that I couldn't be as curvy as other girls.

I turned so my side would face the mirror and looked first at my legs, trying to avoid the inevitable. My legs were scrawny and boney, surely too small to hold up my weight. I moved my gaze up to my stomach, and the tears fell harder. My ribs stuck out slightly, but not enough. You couldn't see _all_ my ribs and that made me feel fat. You could see every single one of my mom's ribs when she wore something tight. She was skinnier than me.

And that wasn't acceptable.

***

After Phil and Renée left that night, I binged for three hours, eating anything edible that I could get my hands on. I purged once an hour, just to be cautious. It scared me, because I had already purged for the day, but I didn't care. Screw chocolate or music, bulimia was my comfort. I didn't need drugs or alcohol. Purging gave me the high I needed.

The next three years passed quietly. My bulimia grew steadily worse, to the point where I'd purge after every meal if I ate at all. I was careful never to do it in school, just skipping lunch instead.

Phil took every opportunity he could to abuse me. A quick squeeze of a boob, a pinch to my ass, a whispered "Whale," in my ear. When he had the time, he'd straight out rape me. Not only did he take my virginity, but he came back for more. I began to associate sex with pain, something I knew would hurt me later in life.

Such a fucked up kid. Connecting puking with freedom and sex with torture.

I never had a real boyfriend throughout high school. I went on dates and made sure to have gorgeous men on my arm for dances, but never anything _real_. I didn't want any attachments here after I left, not even Renée. I kept myself distant from her the best I could living in one small house.

Seven years after it began, I was going off to college. I'd be attending New York University after graduating high school in the top twenty of my class. I was on top of the world, and I was sure nobody could push me down.

By the end of my first semester, things had spiraled out of control. I was determined not to gain the freshman fifteen, and bulimia… it took over my life. I thought it was bad before, but now I had absolutely no control over my life. The evil dictator finally won.

My roommates ignored me, and I ignored them. It was a happy arrangement for all of us.

Left completely on my own, I rarely went to classes. On the occasion I did go, I was confused about everything and failed all my tests and assignments – the few I bothered to hand in. My professors would try to talk to me, but I would just shake them off. What would they know? They couldn't beat my dictator. He was unstoppable.

By the middle of my second semester, I quit. I never went to class and spent my days eating and puking all my money away. No reason to waste a room and crucial money being used to pay for my classes.

I needed a fresh start if I wanted a chance to get my act together. I flew across the country to Forks, Washington. I remembered from when I was younger and loved to study maps, seeing a place called Forks on a map and wanting to do there so badly and saw this as my chance. It was a tiny place with little sun or warmth – a perfect climate for me. I knew there was a tiny bookstore there that needed an employee, and I happily took the job. Through the years, I had loved to read. It couldn't give me the high purging did, but when I managed to quit purging for a few days, reading would take its place.

I found working at the book store to be a monotonous job that occupied my hands, paid my rent, and still allowed me to think about my eating plan for the day, my calorie count, how many more calories I could ingest, what I'd binge on at home, and how many times I'd purge myself that night. Sometimes I even decided to throw in some laxatives or other weight loss pills, just for the sake of variety. At times, I loved my job for allowing me this freedom. Other times I wanted to kill myself for allowing all of it to get to this point. As years went on and my job became more of a routine that required very little thought, my disorder seemed to get worse.

I worked with Tanya Denali, a woman over six feet with strawberry blonde hair and aquamarine eyes adorning her tan and curvy frame. Standing next to her, my self esteem would plunge down the Grand Canyon. Eventually, after working with her for several years, my self esteem was lower than the floor of the Mariana Trench. She was a bit ditzy and seemed to only be working in the book store for the cash in between modeling jobs. The economy was rough on us all, apparently.

I found an apartment, complete with a roommate and a best friend. Her name was Alice Brandon, a tiny woman with spiked black hair and golden eyes that seemed to glow. She was just a little tanned and slim, naturally of course, but still managed to have more in her hips and boobs than I could ever dream of. Living with her made me feel extremely inferior. I worked with a model and now had to live with another gorgeous girl. She was usually very perky and upbeat, the perfect personal assistant to a local millionaire. Her and her psychologist boyfriend, Jasper, were the perfect couple. He was blonde and tall with blue eyes and a serene temperament. He balanced Alice well, and I couldn't have been more grateful for it.

Seeing Tanya come and go with her many boyfriends and Amazonian good looks always made me feel worse about myself. Alice and Jasper being so in love and beautiful together made me feel like complete shit. I always felt like if I was skinny enough I might be as confident and happy as they are. But first I had to throw up everything I ate. My bulimia seemed to worsen as my friends' fortune grew.

As I hit twenty four, I knew my life was spiraling out of control. I had no real future ahead of me. No college degree, no career ideas, and a disorder that just seemed to get worse no matter how good my life was. At the moment, I was stuck working at a book store, and living in an apartment with my own collection of stray cats seemed to be my future. But I also knew nothing could save me from the dictator named bulimia.

* * *

**Don't think all chapters will be this long. My chapters are usually about a third of this size. Next chapter will probably be about the same length, but I won't guarentee all chapters will be. I can promise most will be decent sized since I actually went ahead and made a guideline for this. **

**Reviews are amazing. =]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Woo, chapter 2! As I said, updates will be slow...especially since I really want to finish the rewriting thing before my finals start (coughMondaycough*) before getting too far into this. I also want to stay at least a chapter ahead at all times.**

**Major thanks to my beta, BohemianBuffalo. You definitely should go read her story, Parallels and Opposites.**

**I own nothing and I'm tired of saying it so this is it for the story.**

* * *

2

"Doctor Cullen. Doctor Cullen to the E.R. please."

I sighed, pulled off the blood stained gloves and mask and went out the door. I was needed, yet again, to put on a fresh set of gloves, a new mask, and maybe even new scrubs and save somebody's life. My job was a highly rewarding one, but I'll be the first to admit, it does get old sometimes.

I moved to Port Angeles two years ago, just after finishing med school. I had graduated from Harvard Medical School when I was only 24, the youngest in my class, and for some reason every hospital in the country wanted me. But Port Angeles was a small city filled with young girls that was very close to a small town with many teen girls, most of them probably having issues like my sister, so I felt I had to go there.

I was born and raised in the Windy City. My parents, Esme and Carlisle, were the sweetest people in the world. Carlisle was a psychologist, and Esme was an interior decorator when she wasn't running some charity or another. They volunteered for everything possible, and were the kind of people that genuinely just wanted to help other people.

My sister Claudia was three years older than me, and looked nothing like me. She was petite and thin, like a ballerina in a way, to my tall and thick. She had the most pure, stick straight blonde hair, while mine was a curly copper mess. Her skin was like porcelain, yet mine was frequently tanned. She had sapphire eyes, I had emerald. Everyone always believed that I was older than her, and Claudia despised that. She hated even more that her friends thought I was attractive, and always wanted to come over to watch me study or do chores. She was a typical teen who always played her music too loud and disrespected her parents to be cool. She was also a gymnast and obsessed over it. She never wanted to gain an ounce and never wanted to quit. But she'd do anything to defy our parents.

The four of us had the picture perfect life. We lived in a small mansion in the heart of Chicago. Claudia and I were given everything we'd ever need. Sometimes I was overwhelmed by all they gave us. We both did well in school, her to continue gymnastics and me just for the sake of doing well. Every time we got a positive report card, we got a little gift to go with it.

We both had our own pets as well. I had my little Golden Retriever puppy, Samson, and my snake, Turner. Claudia had her little hamster, Fuzzball, and her cat, Ginger. An aquarium stood in the living room, filled with exotic fish. Our father was always there to tell us the type of fish and a few random facts nobody else would ever care about.

Our mom always packed us some spectacular lunch or another. None of that sandwich, apples, and juice box crap. Spaghetti, sometimes still warm, with hot chocolate, and three cupcakes to share with friends. Crab with melted butter, apple cider, and double fudge brownies. We were the kids getting gourmet meals most kids only dreamt of getting for dinner.

Our lives were blessed. My parents had well-paying jobs with a gorgeous house and two beautiful, intelligent kids. And the kids lived up to the standards others set for them with ease. What could ever go wrong in such a life? A broken nail?

**Wrong.**

When she was sixteen and I was thirteen, she snuck out of the house one night. Her new boyfriend, some twenty–year–old at the nearby college, would pick her up, and they'd drive as fast as they could while downing one beer after another. Until the accident.

He died on impact since he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Claudia, fortunately, had worn her seatbelt, and got out with nothing more than a broken arm. But with a broken arm, she couldn't do any gymnastics until she was healed. And Claudia without gymnastics was no Claudia at all.

She ate her depression away. She gained a mere twenty pounds while her arm was broken, allowing her to finally be a normal weight for her size and age, but in her eyes she was now obese. That was when she stopped eating. None of us ever really noticed at first since she'd always had weird eating habits. She grew more hostile to us and more secretive, but that was it. Nothing too unusual for a teenager, my father would say.

She was back to gymnastics in just six weeks and things were perfectly normal. She still had her hostile attitude, but nothing my parents didn't expect to happen. She went to competitions and like normal did wonderfully at everything. How would we know something was wrong?

Two months back into gymnastics, Claudia was at the biggest competition of her life. If she did well, she would receive scholarship money for the school of her choosing. Then she would be able to compete again next year and hopefully earn the rest of the money needed for college. And then she fainted. She was rushed to the hospital, starved and with a dangerously low blood sugar level. The doctors told us she only weighed seventy pounds. For the next five months, this was the issue on the forefront of our minds. How had we let this happen? Why didn't we notice anything? Why didn't we stop her?

She finally managed to get up to ninety pounds, and while still underweight, Claudia was finally allowed back home. She began eating again and became happier and very excited for college. She was going to compete in the same competition she fainted at five months earlier and try to get scholarship money again. This time, she was lucky enough to make it through the competition and get the money.

We grew closer than ever, to the point where she was my best friend. I told her everything and she gave me the same privilege. We made sure to sit and talk for at least an hour a day, no matter how hectic our schedules were. As excited as I was for her to go to New York University, I was still upset to see her go.

Apparently, she was just as upset as I was. Without whispering any sort of hint to us, she fell into anorexia again. Claudia was determined not to gain the freshman fifteen and instead lost all the weight she'd gained since her trip to the hospital, plus some. Before Thanksgiving, she died of starvation.

Her body, when it arrived in Chicago, was nothing but skin and bones. And what skin there was no longer resembled a porcelain figurine with milky skin and flushed cheeks. She looked more like a paper now than anything else. I couldn't bear to look at her, and neither could my parents. At the funeral, the casket remained closed. We were now stuck with the image of an empty girl that resembled Claudia in looks, but could never be the real deal. No reason to force everyone else to suffer our fate.

I was only fifteen then, but I knew I couldn't let any other younger sibling, any other parents, any other family or friend, feel the pain we felt. Watching her coffin being lowered into the ground was the trigger that let me decide my fate. I would be a doctor, the best doctor there was. And I would save every possible person I could and wouldn't let a person with an eating disorder die in my hospital.

I graduated high school in the top twenty of my class and left to study medicine at Dartmouth where I worked my ass off. I couldn't save Claudia – she wouldn't let me close enough after she left, as well as the fact she was halfway across the country and I knew jack-shit about eating disorders. But just because I couldn't save my sister, didn't mean I couldn't save others. Not just from eating disorders, but from anything. But before I could do that, I had to graduate.

I took classes all through the summer and made sure to take as many classes as I could each semester, allowing me to graduate a year early from Dartmouth as well as a year early from Harvard med. I had all ready lost one life, no reason to let anymore go because I was too lazy to work hard.

Word of my hard work somehow spread to hospitals throughout the country and I was suddenly demanded to be everywhere. An attractive twenty-four-year-old doctor with an outstanding reputation was something everybody wanted to claim as their own.

I could've gone to Boston or New York City or Washington D.C. or even California, but I chose Port Angeles. No matter how many anorexic whores were in Hollywood, I wanted girls that _really_ had issues. Not the ones that simply wanted attention. Maybe I hadn't studied to be a psychologist, but did that mean I couldn't connect with my patients on a more personal level?

"Doctor Cullen! There you are," a nurse cried with relief. "We have some twelve-year-old refusing to let anybody attend to him but you. He was brought in with some problems and has – "

"Leukemia? Must be Dexter. The boy will never let anybody besides me treat him. Just point me in the right direction," I chuckled. He was such a stubborn boy and I was certain he'd thrown a fit larger than anything this nurse could deal with.

She sighed, her shoulders slouching as she did so. "He's up in pediatrics now, you took so long. They'll tell you where to go from there." I smiled at the older woman with her graying hair and sweet face and headed for the elevators.

Now I was a bachelor, twenty six and living in a flat downtown. Despite being a doctor, I often had take-out and pizza, simply because I didn't know how to cook. I made up for it by jogging in the mornings I didn't work and walking to work on nice days. It was a simple life, but that was all I needed. Working in a hospital gave me all the drama and chaos I needed in a day. Why would I want to go home to more of it?

"Morning, Mary Anne. Can you tell me where Dexter is today?" I grinned at the young nurse at the desk. Her bleach blonde hair made her look like a cheap bimbo, but she was one of the kindest nurses on our staff and the only one my age that didn't flirt with me. She was happily married and a small bump under her dress made it clear her family was expanding.

"Room 212E today, Edward. He had quite the tantrum downstairs when Wilson tried to cover for you. May God bless your soul for being able to talk that boy into being treated properly," she drawled, letting her Tennessee roots show.

"Thanks, Mary," I called, all ready halfway down the hall. I heard her laugh follow me, but didn't allow myself to turn around.

I'd had a few girlfriends since moving to this rainy area. I even went on a date with Jessica Stanley, the biggest slut out of the nurses my age, and found myself gagging on cheap perfume by the end of the night. But I got closer than any other doctor here ever tried to. At least, the closest that didn't take his or her clothes off. Dating here just didn't seem to work for me and I was okay with that. I might as well establish a definite, steady future for myself before going there. And I certainly didn't need the commitment now, when I was still working crazy hours.

"Edward!" Dexter's eyes lit up as he saw me enter the room.

"Mornin', Dex. What seems to be the problem today?"

* * *

**Reviews make me happy. Happy Julie passes her really important finals.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay, a really long chapter 3. Well, long for my standards anyway. I know, I know the wait. But my finals are over as of Wedensday. Just two more and I'm done. Which means when I come home tomorrow after writing two essays in an hour anda half, I want lots and lots of e-mails in my inbox *hinthint* I really would love to have closer relationships with my reviewers, so ask questions, leave insanely long reviews, give me something to reply to. I'm sure I speak for many authors when I say we love that sorta thing.**

**Also, remember to vote for the Indies (closing Wedensday I believe) and the Bellies!**

**Major thanks to my beta, BohemianBuffalo. When you finish reviewing, go read her story Parallels and Opposites.**

* * *

*3*

**BPOV**

"Miss? Miss, I'm sorry to bother you, but can you help me with something?" The old lady asked feebly.

Shut up. And no, no I can't help you.

I popped my gum, sighed, and stood. "Please, call me Bella." I told her warmly, plastering on a fake grin and offering some fake cheeriness. "How may I help you?"

If _you_ wanted to help _me_, you'd leave me fucking be. Now I've lost count of my calories.

"I was hoping to find this special cookbook last week, one all about using spinach? A nice young lady with blonde hair told me it wasn't in and she'd order it." Tanya, that fucking whore. "Then she told me it'd be in today. I couldn't find her when I first came in." Of course not, she's using her break to blow her boy toy in the backseat of his car. "So, I was hoping you could help me?" She was such a sweet old lady.

But she made me lose track of my calorie count. Bitch.

I kept the grin intact, adding in an extra little umph for the old lady. "Of course I can. What was the title of the book?" I clicked around on the computer a little, trying to find the program to see what was in stock. This meant closing my epic Spider game as well as the website I was looking up BMIs on. That was important shit, but the outdated computer couldn't handle that many programs at once. I was talking to Mrs. Winkston about getting a laptop or some fuck awesome PC. A Dell or something.

"Oh…I um…let's see. Something with Sprouts…" She mumbled, pulling up her purse. Her purse happened to be bigger than her.

"I thought you said spinach?" I inquired, trying to be helpful and cheery.

"Oh, yes, yes. You're quite right. Silly me. Maybe _Cooking with Spinach_?" She offered, still searching her purse.

"I'll check." I grinned at her. I typed the title in as quickly as I could. Fuck. "I'm sorry, ma'am. That title doesn't seem to exist. Perhaps it's something else?"

"Oh, deary. Perhaps you could search for spinach? See what comes up?" She looked up from her purse to give me an innocent stare through her three inch lenses.

"Sure." I typed in Spinach and found not one, not two, not three, but five hundred sixty seven thousand three hundred and ninety two results. Fuck. My. Life. "Ma'am?" The old fart was digging so far into her bag, I thought I'd have to call in a search and rescue team.

"Yes sweetie?" Good Lord, did her voice just _echo_?

"There are…a lot of results for spinach. Could you be more specific?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. My memory just isn't what it was when I was a beautiful, young girl like yourself. The boys were such flirts then. Always trying to get me to kiss their cheeks and go to movies with them. But I can tell you I never opened my own door or worked a job. How you young girls put up with their behavior is beyond me. So disrespectful. Whatever happened to chivalry? I mean – "

"Ma'am?" I spat out through gritted teeth. "The book?"

"Right, right. Silly me, thing always slipping my mind. Why just last week – "

"Ma'am, I do have other things I need to do. Maybe you could take some time to look through your things and call me over when you've find the title?" I suggested, praying she'd accept the offer.

Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips puckered, which made her look even more like a prune, and she nodded. "Yes, I suppose that would do." She agreed. I grinned and turned towards the stock room. I'm pretty sure the bitch muttered, "Kids these days, so rude." I think I'll just burn the damn book.

I went to the bathroom in the store room and found it locked. "Damn it Tanya. In the fucking bathroom? Take that shit to his car next time, you whore. And some old hag is here for a book about spinach?"

"Murt muh mbck ump! Mrb mqurite mprout!"

"Fucking shit, Tanya. At least take your mouth off his dick before you talk to me! That's fucking nasty." I wrinkled my nose and headed back out to the front of the store. I bit my lip, knowing with my lock the old fart probably had a heart attack while I was in the back. Or she was a klepto.

"Aren't you a handsome young man. And in a bookstore! Not enough men read these days. Are you here for the blonde girl that works here? I hope you're not here for the other girl, she's quite rude. Not at all good for you, I'm sure."

Whore. I'd kill her.

"Ma'am, any luck?" I called, staying at the register so she wouldn't feel like a moron. Well, more than she must already feel like one. I grinned at her as the man she was rambling to muttered a "'Scuse me" and walked away.

"Well, yes, I think I found it. The _I Love SPINACH Cookbook_." She held the paper close to her oversized glasses as she read, sounding out each syllable slowly, resembling a five year old.

I typed it in real quick and my cheeks began to sting from smiling so much. "Looks like it's coming in tomorrow, ma'am. A bad thunderstorm in Memphis delayed shipping. It's in Seattle right now, I'm afraid."

"Oh drat. I suppose I'll be back tomorrow then." She sighed. "How much was it again?"

"It says here that it will cost thirteen twelve." I'm about to punch your face in old lady, just leave already.

"Really? Oh that's far too much. I thought it would be cheaper. I don't really need that book. Thank you though." She smiled, her dentures almost falling out, and left.

I'll. Fucking. Kill. Her.

What the _fuck_ are we supposed to do with a cookbook about fucking _spinach?_

Mother fucking old hag needs to go fucking die already before she finds herself in a shitload of trouble with somebody stronger than I am.

"Miss? Miss, can you help me with something?" The man from before called.

"Just a second, sir." I closed up the search and headed towards the store room.

Okay Bella, breathe in and breathe out. Chillax. Chill-fucking-ax. Tanya's break is over and your's is about to begin. Get the skank, take care of the customer, and you're on break.

"Slutbag! Break's over! Suck faster so I can get outta here."

"Mmrb!"

"Come on, baby. I'm getting bored!" He whined. Huh, he didn't sound like Chad. Oh well.

I walked back out to the register and looked up. And what a site it was to look at.

"H-hi sir. Can I serve- help. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm a doctor over at the hospital and I need a book on Ideational Apraxia. I think a patient might have it and I wanted to look it up. But I don't know where to look or if you'd even have something on it." His grin was lopsided and bright fucking white. Like, blindingly white. And crooked. Or lopsided. Which I might've mentioned already. But hot _damn_ that was a gorgeous smile.

"Can you, um, repeat what type of book you're looking for? I can try fu –finding it in our database." I stuttered, turning bright read. God, when was the last time I fucking _blushed_? Damned gorgeous man.

"Ideational Apraxia. Should I spell it or…?"

"No, no I've got it." I breathed. "You can, um, look around while I, uh, check. The computer kind of, um, loads slowly sometimes."

"Thanks. What's your name, just so I know?" He looked at the ground but brought his piercing gaze back to me. Was he trying to get me to have eye-rings or something? But damn were those some yummy emerald eyes. I wanted to wear them. I'd wear eye-rings if they would be like his eyes.

"Blo - Bella. My name is Bella." Fucking sped.

He grinned at me, crooked again, ran his hand their his hair and walked away. God his hair. I wanted to build a fucking shrine for it. It was curly and messy and dorky and fucking _bronze_. Who's got hair the color of a penny?

Apparently, this motherfucker.

I smacked myself in the forehead. Twice. Once for acting like a chimp in his presence, and a second time for thinking it would ever happen. Guys like him don't need, or want, girls like me. Ever.

I did the search, fortunate enough to find we actually did have a book on Additional Boxers or whatever it was. Figures we had a book on this stuff but not spinach.

Tanya emerged from the backroom, chugging down a water bottle. I rolled my eyes at her and she shot me a look clearly saying "At least I'm getting laid".

"So, why did you need me out here so badly?" She plucked my gum from the counter and shoved three pieces in her mouth.

"Some old woman wanted a book about spinach that's not coming in until tomorrow. Lucky for you, she decided it would cost too much and left. Now, I'm dealing with a customer so go brush your teeth or something. New boy toy has got some funky smells going on down there." I scrunched up my nose and fanned my hand in the air.

"At least I've got a boy toy, skinny." She sneered, plopping herself down onto the stool behind her register. "Go take your break, I'll deal with the customer."

Let _her_ deal with the god? Like fuck I would.

"Not happening. I started this customer, I'm finishing with him. Just go brush your fucking teeth."

"Watch your mouth, Swan. Someday the boss is gonna walk in here and listen to you goin' at it with your cursin' and fire your bony little ass." She glowered.

"But then you'll be bored. And you'll quit. Because you'll hate the new girl and you'll hate that she's more attractive than you."

"Whatever Swan." She rolled her eyes at me.

If we didn't look as different as night and day, we could've been twin sisters with the way we argued.

Sex-on-legs came back as we finished fighting, carrying a pile of books. Umm, marry me much? The books ranged from classics to modern autobiographies and I kind of felt like fucking him senselessly in a pile of my favorite books. The paper cuts might be kind of distracting and painful though.

He looked up sheepishly at me while I ogled his books. "I've got a library at home that I need to fill and I just couldn't help myself."

I giggled, trying to make it look like I didn't want him to fill me. "You don't have to explain anything to me. And we do have a book on what the…Ideational Aproxia?"

"Apraxia, but very nice try." He laughed. "So, uh, where's the book? I can get it while you start checking out my books?" He shuffled his feet and smiled at me, unsure if I'd accept his plan.

Fucking hell his insecurity was hot.

"Yeah, that'd be fine." I grinned, praying he didn't know his laugh made me want to cum right then and there.

He dropped the books with a thud and I instructed him where to go.

"So that's why you wanted to handle this customer." Tanya smirked, watching his ass as he walked away. "Damn, I'll hit that."

"You'll hit anything with a dick."

"But I'd rather hit _that_ thing with a dick." She arched an eyebrow at me. "You weren't hoping to get him, were you?"

I snorted. "Like he'd even want me."

"That's true. So, how about you send those books over here and I'll take care of him. You can go start your break." Tanya encouraged, unbuttoning two buttons on her shirt. But she's not a whore at all, really.

"I already started scanning, thanks though." I told her sourly, checking out a biography about Edgar Allen Poe.

Tanya huffed and sulked on her stool while Mr. My-Laugh-Makes-Girls-Orgasm returned. He grinned at me and I was sure I'd become a pool of liquid on the floor, but I was still the same height.

Floating puddle, perhaps?

"Did I keep you waiting long? I'm sorry about that, but it was the only copy and kind of hard to find."

"Maybe next time I should just get it myself." I giggled. When did I become a fucking teeny bopper and when did he become Justin Timberlake?

Granted, I don't think I've ever wanted to jump Mr. JT as badly as I want to jump this man and dry hump his leg like a dog. But whatever.

He kept smiling at me as I finished checking out his books and I kept my gaze down. He obviously didn't realize his smile was causing a party in my panties and I wanted to keep it that way.

"So, what's your name?" Tanya asked, popping her gum as she sidled over to my register.

"Edward. Edward Cullen." He smiled politely at Tanya and looked back at me.

"I'm Tanya. So what do you do for a living?" Her gum popped again.

"I work as a doctor over at the hospital. Mostly stuff in the ER or pediatrics." His voice was clipped and courteous, nothing like the warmth he gave me.

"That's so amazing. I wish I could do something like that. I usually model, but the economy's just _such_ a mess. But I usually donate my money to hospitals for kids and stuff, ya know?" Tanya rambled, attempting to impress him. She leaned over the counter towards him, pushing her boobs up to her chin trying to be seductive.

"Yeah, that's really nice." Edward agreed. Tanya popped her gum in response. Edward flicked his eyes over to her and couldn't help but stare at her boobs. I rolled my eyes at it and began bagging the books.

"Erm, Mr. Cullen?"

His eyes snapped towards me and he grinned again. My fucking God he grinned a lot. "Call me Edward."

"You're still actually going to have to pay for all your books, Edward."

He flushed slightly and scrambled for his wallet. "Geez, I'm sorry. I completely spaced there. You take credit cards right?" I nodded and accepted the plastic from him, swiping it and letting him finish up. I ripped of the receipt and stuck it in the bag.

"Have a nice day Edward." I smiled, handing the giant bag over to him.

He started to turn away, hesitated, and turned back. "Hey, would you like to – "

"Eddie, take my number, before you go. You could call me sometime?" She batted her eyelashes obnoxiously and handed him a business card, trying to puff her boobs out more. She just reminded me of a blowfish instead.

He took the card and nodded. "Yeah…I'll see you two sometime then." He looked disappointed as he walked away but I ignored it. He should be happy he's got Tanya the supermodel's number.

Of course he got her number. She's Tanya – smart, curvy, tall, blonde, witty, and charming. What man wouldn't want her number?

And why would any man want mine? Plain brown eyes, plain brown hair, pale as any albino, short and fat. Not to mention the red splotches of broken blood vessels, my rough knuckle, and the purple circles under my eyes. Those weren't exactly what you wanted to use when drawing a man in. He was too gorgeous for me anyway. A living Adonis should have nothing to do with a fuck up like me.

But…something about him was just so _different_.

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm going on break."

***

**EPOV**

I flipped through the pages uselessly, soaking up none of the text as I looked at each page. I just couldn't get her off my mind.

I slammed the book shut and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. She was just so beautiful and radiant and … I don't even know.

I sighed, pulling out the card the blonde girl had given me.

_Tanya Denali, supermodel and bookstore cashier._

Several numbers were written below it, but she had underlined her cell number with a black sharpie.

I flipped it over between my thumb and my pointer a few times, just letting it spin, bit by bit.

_Why won't she leave me alone?_

She was petite, skinnier then she should be. Her chocolate colored hair was wavy and shiny and I wanted to run my fingers through it. Her lips were full and pink and oh-so-kissable. And her eyes, oh _God_, her eyes. They were so round and innocent and expressive. Brown had always seemed so dull. Until … _Bella_.

I buried my face in my palms again, wishing she wouldn't be there, yet hoping she would be. I sighed, unsure if I was really happy about this or not when she was still there.

I almost had her number, almost had a date. Until Tanya gave me her number and my courage was shot down.

_Why?_

Having a supermodel ask me out should be the last thing to kill my confidence, but it did. I felt like shooting myself over such a stupid thing. I could've at least tried. She wasn't wearing a ring, so it was a clear invitation.

I could always call Tanya, maybe she could help me … but then she would want a date.

I sighed, knowing I didn't have time to think about this. I avoided women and dating for this very reason. My work needed me. My _patients_ needed me, far more than any woman did. Bella was no exception.

I tore up the little card and watched the pieces fall to my desk like snowflakes. I brushed them into the garbage can, vowing to myself that I wouldn't think about Bella anymore. I would never go back to the bookstore again, never flirt with her if I saw her in the street, and never look for her.

I opened my book, closing my eyes, and sighing as I did.

And Bella was still there.

I needed to know more.

* * *

**I will not switch back and forth, promise. Just one change a chapter, if that.**

**I put up my twitter and my blogger on my page, as well as a new LJ ff community you guys should check out called Edwardville. And if you follow me on twitter, PLEASE tell me in a review/PM. Because I had to block some people I didn't know and couldn't find them following anybody I DID know and I don't want to block my readers. So if it's not obvious you read ff in your statuses/who you're following, please tell me ahead of time. And that's it. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm SO SO SO SO FUCKING SORRY. I was finishing up Breaking Beauty and writing my novel during July, then I was getting ready for vacation then going on vacation and then last week was catch up and I've been trying to do this chapter all week. If you follow me on twitter, you saw yesterday how hard I tried. But this is fairly long and I made some progress on the next fic I'm working on (writing all ahead of time).**

**This story's now on Twilighted, if you'd prefer to read it there. My penname over there is JewelzIsWeird, and those of you that have been following my work for a LONG time know that was my original name on here.**

**Major thanks to my beta, BohemianBuffalo. When you finish reviewing, go read her story Parallels and Opposites.**

* * *

*4*

**BPOV**

I gagged once again, making sure nothing was left. I put down both lids and flushed, then rested my head on the cold porcelain.

_Look what a total stranger's done to you Bella. Look how far you've sunk._

I growled softly at the thought. Edward had caused me to binge and purge three times in one night. I was tempted to go back and stuff my face so I could throw up again, but I was fairly sure we were out of food.

_Hope Alice already ate._

I stood myself up on shaky legs, taking my time and using the counter for support. I might've been a pro at this, but three at once was a lot, even for me.

I leaned over the sink and watched myself in the mirror. God, I was a fucking wreck. I don't even know this motherfucker and Tanya giving him her fucking number kills me. What. The. Fuck?

Picking up my toothbrush, I began scrubbing my mouth furiously. I wanted to erase all traces of what I'd done. I had to put my façade back on, make it seem like everything was fine, before Alice came home.

_Everything would be fine if you weren't a slut._

I swallowed back the bitterness of my thoughts, trying to pull on the mask.

I wore my mask frequently. The whole tough bitch routine I pulled for everyone. It made everyone think I was fine and confident in myself. They didn't mess with me. The mask hid all that really went on. I'd made such an art of hiding behind this other person that even Alice rarely saw through it. She equated everything to stress, not the truth.

I rinsed the brush off and set it down before cautiously leaving the room. I prayed to God Alice wasn't home yet. She still thought I was on my way to recovery. Jasper could always see the truth, he's a damned psychologist after all, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. If Ally wasn't dating him, I gladly would've.

After ensuring that I was still alone, I ran back for my room. I knew I'd look like shit and needed to clean myself up before Ally got home. I loved Ally immensely, but I wasn't quite ready to let her know how badly I was losing the battle.

***

**EPOV**

I sighed again, still thinking of the woman from the bookstore. She hadn't left me alone for hours and now, starving though I was, I found the only thing I was in the mood for was the girl from the bookstore. Bella. Even her name meant beautiful. Were her parents fortune tellers or just plain optimistic?

_Bella._

A knock at the door broke me from my thoughts, causing me to jump up and head for the door.

_Why are people bothering me while I'm trying to think about Bella?_

"Doofus! Open up!" The pounding continued, accompanied by obnoxious, off-key singing. I groaned as I turned the knob, praying they wouldn't be there but knowing nobody else would knock on a door like that.

"'Build Me Up Buttercup' Emmett? Really?" I sighed. He grinned broadly at me, squeezing the arm he had around his wife.

"Rosie loves the song," he justified.

"She loves the original version, Em. Not the crap that comes out of your mouth," I corrected, rolling my eyes.

"She knows my mouth is fucking magical, Cullen. I could show you someday if you wanted me to." Emmett waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. I tried to hide my laughter with a snort as Rosalie glared at him.

"Are you two done with your little argument yet? We are here for a reason," she snapped, her glare equally taking turns on the two of us.

"Oh, right." He smacked himself in the forehead, chuckling.

"Before you start, do you guys wanna come in? Sit before you talk?" I offered.

Emmett shook his head. "We just came here to invite you to our party next weekend. Bring your own booze," he added, knowing I could be choosy with the crap I put in my mouth.

"What's the party for?" I felt my eyebrows come together as I eyed them carefully.

"We're having a baby!"

"We've moved!"

They exchanged nervous glances as they realized what they'd done.

"So … what's it for again?" I asked, more confused than ever.

Rosalie huffed, crossing her arms over her stomach. "Em, we weren't supposed to say anything until the party! I can't believe you told him."

"But he's our best friend. I thought we could tell him this before the party," Emmett sputtered, realizing the danger he was in.

"Congratulations, I guess," I told them carefully. "But when did you move? And _where_ did you move?"

"Well, if we've ruined one surprise, you'll just have to see on this one." Emmett grinned, cutting off Rosalie's response.

"That doesn't make any sense." Rosalie sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I got a plan, Rosie. Trust me." He squeezed her waist again.

Still thoroughly confused, I asked them if they wanted to come in again. "No," Rosalie said, smiling sadly at me. "We should probably get going. We've got dinner reservations to make and neither of us is ready. Tomorrow you can come and eat at our place though, alright?"

"Yeah but – "

"You'll have our address, young grasshopper," Emmett interrupted, smirking proudly. "See ya later, dude." He brought a hand around to clap my back and turned to leave.

"I'll be just a second, Em. You go ahead," Rose instructed. Emmett grumbled something under his breath as he sulked off without her. "Edward … is everything okay?" she whispered.

"Everything's fine, Rose. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just seemed kind of off while we were talking. I worried something had happened and you were trying to hide it from us. You know you can tell us anything, right?"

"Of course I know. But there's nothing wrong," I assured her.

She wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing quickly. As she pulled away she opened her mouth then bit her lip against saying anything. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

I nodded and she turned and walked away quickly to catch up with Emmett.

_Crap. Tomorrow night will be bad._

The door snapped shut and I headed back to the office, thoughts of brown already drifting through my head.

***

I woke the next morning to a loud bang on my door. Stumbling towards the source of my agitation, I wrenched open the door and grumbled seeing it was just a note.

_Howdy Neighbor!_

_ We just moved in next door last week and have finally settled in, but we didn't think you'd noticed and thought we should invite you to dinner._

_ Tonight, 8 o'clock, our place. No excuses!_

Good God. I had bumbling, tourist-y idiots for neighbors.

I set the note on to the kitchen table, turned the coffee machine on, and hopped up on the counter. I glared at the wooden table in front of me, as if it was the source of my being woken up so early.

_That table's brown. Almost like Bella's hair, but maybe a shade or two lighter. A shade darker than her eyes._

I smacked my head back into the cabinets, groaning out of pain and the reminder of the figure that haunted my dreams the whole night through.

I'd seen her in a trailing, white dress. I'd seen her cuddling a baby with eyes like mine. I'd seen her naked. I'd seen her in my arms. And she was always smiling at me.

Feeling like a complete sap, I hopped down to get a mug for my coffee and a thermos to bring to work. Usually, I only needed one cup but something told me that today was going to suck.

***

I knocked on the door, straightening my tie and praying that Em and Rose wouldn't kill me for skipping their dinner for my neighbors. But what was I supposed to do? I had no way to cancel on the neighbors, but Rose and Em were just a phone call away. Granted, they hadn't answered the phone.

"Howdy, partner. The door's open and you can come on in!" A voice called through the door, the horrible Southern twang weaving through his words.

Cringing, I turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"Hello?" My voice seemed to echo in the still bare room. Hardwood floors, white walls and decorated with a couch, coffee table, and big screen TV hung on the wall, the room was an interior decorators dream.

"Edward Cullen, right?" An oddly familiar voice called from the kitchen. A blonde woman in a vibrant, fire engine red dress stepped out, wiping her hands on a towel and smirking at me. "It was all his idea, don't blame me."

"Rose, why would you let him do such a stupid thing?" I chuckled, shaking my head and pulling her in for a quick hug.

"Because I love the big goof ball. And he wanted to wear his 'Cowboy Hat'. Personally, that hat gives us both a lot of pleasure." Her eyes glazed over slightly into a blue-grey haze.

"More than I need to know, Rose. Much more." I rolled my eyes and she laughed.

"Sorry, hun. If it helps, I'm making Mamaw's mouthwatering lasagna. I had a feeling you wouldn't be in the best mood when you got here."

"No wonder Emmett loves you so much. You always know how to fix his bad mood too, don't you?" I elbowed her arm and she smiled sheepishly, heading back to the kitchen.

"The insatiable fool will be out in a minute."

I sat down on the couch, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the table in front of me.

_But it's the same color as her hair._

I let a harsh sigh fall from my mouth as I tried to shut out the flashes of her I had stored in my mind. Her in the store. Her blush. Her kind smile.

"Hey, Eddie Boy! You made it." Emmett grinned at me and all I could do was stare back. Still wearing his cowboy hat, he also had on a red and white plaid shirt with a tan faux leather vest over it. Then he had on jeans with honest-to-God tan chaps. To top it all off, he had on tan leather cowboy boots.

"Rose wasn't kidding about you and that hat, was she? Have you three had a talk with your marriage counselor yet?"

"What kind of a marriage counselor would I be if I had to _go _to a marriage counselor?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "Besides, Rose and I get mutual pleasure out of this old hat."

I groaned, shuddering at the mental image again. "She told me the same thing. Thanks, though."

"That's my girl." He laughed. "But hey, she's making her Mamaw's lasagna. I asked her to make some bison burgers or some shit that a cowboy would eat, but she didn't go for it." He pouted.

"What kind of marriage counselor are you that you can't even make your wife cook you the food you want?" I mocked.

"Oh, shut it, Cullen. Just because you're a young, prodigal doctor and can have all the pussy you want, doesn't mean you should torment those of us that have been whipped," he grumbled.

"If there was any out there that I wanted, I'd end up in your situation. Hopefully." I smirked.

He eyed me carefully, thinking of something, then shook it off. "Just because you're picky doesn't mean you can complain. And you will end up in my situation someday because you're the kind of a pretty boy that would be easily whipped."

_I already am whipped. But she doesn't even know it._

An awkward silence fell as I stared at the table, fighting the urge to stroke it as I berated myself for even thinking of such a thing.

_It won't feel like her hair, you fool._

"Why is it so quiet in here?" Rosalie's gaze bounced back and forth between Emmett and I while his eyes were glued intently on me. "Well, um, dinner's ready," she finally murmured, heading back to the kitchen.

I followed quickly, but I could feel Emmett linger, observing my every move carefully. With a sigh, he began walking behind me.

"Do you think she has beers ready for us or are we stuck drinking wine?" he finally asked, smirking at me.

"Wine technically is healthier," I pointed out, my lips lifting to mirror his smirk.

"Oh, shut up, you health nerd. Is this the same man that lives off of pizza and Chinese food telling me that wine is healthier than beer?" he joked.

"I exercise to make it all go away. Being a doctor doesn't mean I can cook or go out to five star restaurants every night."

"Well, then thank God we moved in here. Now I can feed you properly between working at the garage, working at the florist's and being a hormonal, bitchy pregnant woman." Rosalie set the lasagna tray in the middle of the table, letting it be surrounded by bread and salads. Emmett leaned over and kissed her cheek tenderly as she moved to straighten herself.

"You're going to keep working at the garage? Isn't it kind of dangerous? And the florist's? That's an awful lot of stress for you isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. "You sound almost as bad as him." She jerked a thumb towards her husband. "It's not like I worked full time in the first place and I'll only be working an hour or two a day now. And I talked to Annie and she told me I can stop into the shop during the morning to pick up a few orders and all the flowers I'll need and I can arrange them here then drop them off when I get the chance. I'm a big girl and I can handle myself, thank you very much."

"Well, Rose, I spend a lot of time with children and help out with expecting mothers. Pardon me for wanting my best friend to be treating herself right."

"You'll see me plenty. If it starts to look like I need to rest, you can tell me," she pointed out.

I shrugged, stuffing a forkful of lasagna in my mouth and moaning softly at the orgasm on my tongue.

_Wonder if Bella would like this. Maybe if I gave her the recipe she could cook it?_

"Oh, Edward, would you be able to do some painting next weekend? I know it's early but I want to start setting up the nursery and I know I can't paint when I'm pregnant." She sighed sadly, knowing this included spray painting and detailing cars.

"Sure, Rose, not a problem," I agreed, my mind drifting to thoughts of Bella painting next to me, covered in paint herself.

"Wonderful!" Rose squealed. "We're thinking this yellow color, right Em?" They continued rambling about decorations for the room and about whether they would put piece x on wall y or wall z. I couldn't take me mind off of Bella painting. Or holding a hand over her swollen belly staring around our own nursery. Setting our baby to sleep in our crib.

"What do you think, Edward?" Emmett finally asked me. They both stared at me, waiting for an answer.

"Think about … what?" I finally asked, unable to even pretend I knew what they were talking about.

"Do you think the baby will be a boy or a girl?" Rose clarified.

"The mother's intuition is right more than half the time," I simply stated.

"See? That means it'll probably be a boy!" She smiled triumphantly. Emmett mumbled something half-heartedly that I didn't pick up. Digging back into my plate, I only briefly registered the worried glance the couple I dined with shared.

"Edward? Can we talk about something?" Emmett questioned carefully, pushing his own plate away.

"Depends what it is." My eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, but looking at Rose I was only able to see her bite her lip.

"We're worried, Edward. You've been acting very odd since we came to see you last night, but you were perfectly fine when I called that morning." She reached a hand across the table to take a hold of mine supportively.

"Something happened, Edward, could you please tell us? You'd feel better sharing how you feel with others that you love and trust." I recognized that he was using the same voice he used with his clients, but pushed the thought away. I wasn't in a broken marriage and didn't need to be treated like I was.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just a bit …" _Enamored? Obsessed? Dreamy? Overly hopeful? Cowardly? _"Distracted. That's all."

"But what's distracting you, Edward? That's what we're worried about," Rose prodded gently.

"It's just … it's really nothing. There was just this girl in the bookstore yesterday, that's all." I muttered.

"A girl? Come on Eddie, now you _have _to spill the details. Your area of expertise is coaching pregnant women and making people healthy. This is _my_ area," Emmett pushed.

"She was the cashier. She was gorgeous and kind, funny and patient despite my bumbling. And good God, she is the definition of a beautiful brunette, and you know how I dislike the color brown unless it's furniture or food." They nodded in understanding. "I almost asked her out, but then the other cashier gave me her number and I lost my courage." I shrugged. "That's all there is to it, really."

"Why don't you go out with the other girl, then?" Rose asked. "Maybe she can get the other girl off your mind."

"The other girl's a model and was kind enough, but she did nothing for me. She seemed a bit slutty and she was blonde. Seeing her next to the other girl made her look like The Elephant Woman. I ripped up her number anyway."

"Do you at least know the name of the girl you're pining over?" Emmett mused aloud.

"Bella. I didn't get her last name, though." They shared another look and then burst out laughing. "Well that's not rude and obnoxious at all," I stated sourly.

"What the hell's the problem, Edward? You go to the bookstore and talk to her. If she's not there, get her last name and look her up." Emmett laughed again, shaking his head. "You're so fucking clueless."

I blinked, the simplicity of the resolution to my problem setting over me. I chuckled along with them, in disbelief that I could be so stupid.

"Alright, alright. I'll go tomorrow." I grinned stupidly at the idea of seeing my angel again.

Rosalie smiled at me in support and Emmett kept shaking his head at me.

"Well, now that Lover Boy is taken care of, did I smell chocolate cake earlier, Rose? Because I think that would hit the spot now."

* * *

**So, I'm going to pimp this story called De La Vie D'Artiste, which I know is updating tonight. It's be rhpsfaerie and SO good, especially if you love music like I do. If you ask, she might give you some suggestions too. Do not ignore them.**

**Err, I'm still on twitter as breakdownslowly. Link on page, I think. You also should all go join Edwardville, link on profile. Discussion updates, picspams (I put one up after sending this to beta), blogs by some of our favorite authors (americnxidiot is this week's blogger with tarasueme next week), general discussions, polls, and tons more. It's one of my many babies, so give it love, hmm? If you're already a member, it's also on twitter as EdwardvilleBlog. And I haven't checked, but Breaking Beauty was nominated for an award (linked on my profile) and I think it's still running. I'll look after posting this.**

**Lot of love to you all and I hope you can forgive me!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Woah, it only took a week. How weird. Thank Vixen1836 for popping my WC cherry. I wrote almost all of this chapter in an hour. Isn't it amazing? It's uber long too. And we meet Alice and Jasper.**

**The next chapter is already done and most of it but the last two paragraphs have been beta'd by the fabulous BohemianBuffalo. I really liked this chapter and I hope you all do too. So make sure to send the love for it.**

**I own a pretty new laptop that can keep me up until 3 am, but I don't own Twilight**

* * *

*5*

The tinkling bell that haunted my dreams sounded as I opened the door. I took a second to turn and glare at the bell while the door swung closed behind me.

_Fucking bell._

I walked to the back of the store, pushing open the door to the backroom and dropping my bag to the side of the door, and turned back around. I sat at my stool behind the counter, trying to figure out what I'd have for dinner.

_Some grapes maybe? Perhaps prunes or raisins would be better. Or maybe I could have a sandwich? That would make Alice happy and I'd only have to eat half of it._

The bell chimed again and I clenched my hands down on the counter. I'd fucking destroy that bell someday.

"He never called me! He doesn't seem like the 'wait-three-days' type. I even cancelled my date with that guy buying the book on flowers so I could get a bikini wax!" Tanya slammed her purse down on the counter and pouted. "I mean, he totally seemed like the kind to call the same night. Do you think something happened to him? Do you know what he does for a living?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Tanya? Blowjob guy? Because I didn't even see his face." After last night, I was far from ready to deal with her bullshit.

"_No_, he was my cousin's friend. I mean that Edward guy … what did he do again?" she whined.

I swallowed thickly, wondering why she _had_ to go there. "He's a doctor."

"Oh … well do you think that maybe he was, like, busy saving some millionaire's life and couldn't call me?" She bit her lip, smirking as she realized how amazing her next conquest must have been.

"Or maybe he just prefers brunettes." I smiled back at her sweetly. The bitch deserved it.

She gasped in horror. "I would have to _dye_ my _hair_? I looked horrible when I was a brunette!" She twined her hands into her strawberry-gold strands of hair. "But I don't think so. I think he was just saving some millionaire's life. Because who actually likes brunettes … no offense." She eyed me with pity, a hint of envy in her eyes.

Even as I told myself Tanya was probably right, I couldn't help but be slightly reassured. Maybe it meant he really did like me after all. Why else wouldn't he call Tanya, the fucking supermodel? It did seem like he was going to ask me something before he left, too …

"But he's totally going to call me today, don't you think? I'm sure he'll apologize for not calling me last night and everything."

I smiled at her, sick of thinking about it. "Sure, Tanya. He'll call any minute now."

She giggled. "Really? You think so? I mean, gawd, how long could he be working? Maybe he's an intern and he's working one of those ridiculously long shifts. Aren't they like thirty-six hours or something?" I shrugged, genuinely not knowing. "Oh, come on, Bella. You have to tell me _something_."

"Sorry, Tanya. I just don't feel that great today." I wasn't lying for once either. My throat was beginning to feel fucking sore from all the purging last night and keeping up a conversation with Tanya was only making things worse.

"Baby. If I had even the slightest headache, I would've just called in sick instead of just coming in to complain." Tanya narrowed her eyes into slits as she grimaced at me. "But anyway, how big do you think his dick is? His shoes looked _huge_, didn't they?"

I tuned out her chattering, choosing to weight the calories in ten grapes with that of three slices of cheese. Or did I want to binge tonight? My throat definitely wasn't up for it and I'd seen a popped blood vessel last night. But damn it, I didn't want to eat if I couldn't purge.

As the day wore on, Tanya checked her phone obsessively, never getting anything from Edward.

"Damn it, it's just blowjob guy asking if I want to hook up tonight." She huffed, slamming her phone down on the counter. It'd been slow again today and we were finally locking up, without a word from Edward. "He must be such a fucking asshole. Why couldn't he at least _text_ me and let me know he was busy and couldn't call and set up a proper date right now? Or he could've told me yesterday he'd be busy."

She had spent the day checking her phone every five fucking minutes and I had spent the day thinking. If Tanya couldn't get a man like him, how would I even stand a chance? She was everything I wasn't, and why would any man want what I had? I didn't _have_ anything. I was a bitchy, fucked-up, disgusting woman living in her friend's apartment. Not exactly a prize for a young, gorgeous, intelligent, funny, adorable doctor.

I was hopeless. Nobody would ever want me. I was going to be the crazy-as-fuck cat lady that lived in the dingy one-room apartment in the bad part of town and let her thirty-seven cats use the entire place, including the bed, as a litter box. And for money, I would recycle my vodka bottles and cans of prune juice and I would knit sweaters out of the fur my cats shed.

The more I thought about my future life, the nicer it sounded. Nobody would be there to hound me about eating. Nobody would make me leave when I didn't want to. And I wouldn't have to deal with young, gorgeous, intelligent, funny, adorable doctors. No matter how much I enjoyed every minute of the sweet torture.

"Whatever, he's not going to call. Do you think I should just text Johnny? He's always available and he makes some fucking amazing beer," Tanya declared, looking at me expectantly.

"Um … sure I guess." I shrugged, already thinking of the soft bed. If I fell asleep before Alice got home, I wouldn't have to eat because she couldn't bug me about it.

"That's not helpful. God, you're so fucking selfish." She rolled her eyes at me, putting her purse on her shoulder carefully. "Whatever, I'm going over there. His friend has some really good weed if you want to come." She always asked me to come with her if there were drugs or drinking. I had gone once and all I got to see was Tanya fucking some hobo on a couch while I got drunk. So why did the fucking skank keep asking me?

"No thanks, Tanya. I'm ready to just crash. I'll probably get home and go to bed." I backed out carefully, hoping she wouldn't notice the lack of food in my plan.

"And you're not going to eat any dinner? Honestly, why the fuck do you never eat?" She pursed her lips at me.

"I'm not feeling well, I told you this morning." Why the fuck did she have to pick today to turn her brain on?

"Whatever. But if you, like, die, I'm not covering your shift."

I stared at her blankly for a few moments, absorbing the fact that she had honest-to-God said that. "I'll keep that in mind," I said flatly.

"And like, if you do die, just don't do it at work. Because I don't want to touch a dead body. That's like … icky." She wrinkled her nose and shuddered delicately.

Or as delicately as a six-foot supermodel with killer curves could.

"Noted, Tanya. Now can we get the fuck out of here?" She scoffed at me, pointing me out. I flipped the light switches off and waited for her to lock up.

"Night, slut," she called, her heels clacking down the sidewalk. I never understood why she insisted on wearing high heels to walk around Port Angeles, but who was I to complain?

I trudged back to my apartment slowly, trying to ignore the creeped feeling I got every time I walked down this street to my apartment. It always felt like someone was watching me, but I knew it was just a bunch of hobos. Very, very pervy hobos.

Walking ten blocks was a pain in the ass after not eating all day, but I managed it. I fell through the doorway into my apartment, locking the door and dropping the keys in the bowl next to it. Alice and I were constantly losing keys and decided we should just leave them in the bowl as soon as we got home. It'd worked so far, except the time she came home drunk after a night at the club.

Stumbling through the apartment, I dodged a few articles of clothes we'd left out in our run to get laundry done early this morning. We were always running late, but were quickly running out of clothes and knew we had to get a washer and a dryer quickly before they were all taken.

I picked up a water bottle from the fridge then continued to my room, collapsing onto my bed and falling quickly asleep.

***

"Bella, _please._ It'll be fun and you know it. Plus it's been ages since we've hung out," Alice begged. "We're both always working and we've finally got a day off on the same day and Jazzy is busy working today, so it's perfect. It's fate, I tell you. We _have_ to do it," she pleaded, jumping up and down on my bed like a five-year-old.

"Alice, I hate shopping. You know that. It's not like I'm making thousands a week like some people."

She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. She looked away for a moment, allowing herself to calm down. Finally turning back to me, her eyes were wide and her bottom lip pouted out. "Please, Bells? You don't have to buy anything, really. We can just spend time together. Walk, talk, you know. The usual."

I glared at her, scowling. "You know I can't resist that look, Alice."

"Exactly." I could hear the triumph in her voice, yet her face stayed the same. "It's not like I drag you shopping every week. We get so little time together and what better way is there for girls to bond than to go shopping together?" She batted her eyelashes once, twice, three times, and I was done.

"Fuck!" I bounced out of bed, heading for the kitchen. "You better keep a lot of coffee in my system, Puck!" I heard her bell-like giggle float through the hall after me as I retrieved my coffee. "And you aren't making me wear anything besides jeans and a T-shirt."

"Silly Bella. If I won this one thing, why would I push my luck like that? I'll even let you wear your favorite pair of jeans and a very plain, modest tee," she agreed, her voice tinkling like the bell I wanted to kill.

_Maybe there's some kind of connection to all of this … _

I shook my head, pouring it out into my 'Fuck My Life' mug that Alice had gotten me for Christmas. She had it specially made for me so nobody else would touch it. Jazz accidentally used my mug once and was nearly castrated for it. Needless to say, Alice was angrier about that than he was, and she had to make sure it never happened again.

"Are we meeting Jasper at all?" I called after taking a long sip of my java.

"Erm…" I heard her moving around in her own room now. "I think we were gonna meet for lunch. Is that cool with you?"

"Sure. I haven't seen him in a while." I agreed. I liked Jazz, but couldn't help but dread dinner now. Considering he was a psychologist that specialized with girls that had eating disorders, also known as girls like _me_, I was very wary of him. I also knew that now I would have to actually eat food. And not just a little bit.

"Bella, do you have anywhere you want to stop today? I want to try to plan it so we don't run into any stores while they're too crowded. Those lines always kill me."

I chuckled, remembering her fit when we were stuck waiting in line for over ten minutes. We were only buying one outfit for this important meeting Alice had and she nearly beheaded a man. Oh, little, mischievous Puck.

"Just the usuals."

I threw on the clothes Alice had left. True to her word, she left my favorite jeans and a plain old black T-shirt that I practically swam in. I put on my ratty, old sneakers, knowing Alice would try to get me to replace them again, and grabbed my bag. Alice despised the plain, black bag with the pin that said 'FML' but couldn't make me part with it. She didn't even have a valid reason for hating it, since I always pointed it out that it was very me and also went with everything. She just did.

"Alice, you ready?" I sat myself down on the couch, sighing. She always seemed to take ages, even if it was only an extra five minutes.

"I just need my mascara, promise."

I snorted, knowing mascara led to eye shadow and eye shadow led to eye liner and eye liner led to lip gloss. Alice was eccentric, yet still predictable. You just had to study all her patterns.

Ten minutes later, she skipped out of her room, a picture of perfection as always. "My car," she stated simply.

"We always take your car."

"Because your car only goes twenty before giving up and stopping. I actually want to get somewhere before the sunsets today," she pointed out smugly.

"Fuck, Puck. You. Do. Not. Diss. The Monster," I gritted out.

"Don't call me Puck," she hissed.

"Then take back what you said about The Monster, Puck," I retorted.

She made a slight growling sound before relenting. "Fine, The Monster doesn't suck. Happy, you

whore?"

"Very," I grinned, grabbing my keys as we headed out the door. She rarely won over me, yet Puck always worked.

***

We got to the mall and hurried over to the closest electronics store. Alice insisted that she needed a new MP3 player, because her iPod wasn't enough. And Jazz needed some new CD by a band I'd never heard of.

"Alice, why would you do this to me? CDs and iPods? You know I can't afford any of it," I whined, not caring if I sounded like some fucking five-year-old. She gripped my wrist and half pulled me into the store, causing me to trip continuously. "What the fuck, Alice?"

"I don't care if you can't afford it. I really do need this stuff and maybe I want to pick something up for you. Or you could actually spend your money on something fun for once," she argued.

I sighed. "But you know I don't like –"

"Shush, Bella. A CD is nothing compared to what I _could_ try to buy you. Because honestly, you need a new iPod. Stella has to go. I could buy one for you and you'd just have to deal with it because you complain too much."

"Stupid Puck," I mumbled, finally walking willingly into the store.

"Stubborn Whore," she muttered back.

I looked at all the iPods with Alice and listened to her banter with the employee in charge of the section about the pros and cons of each iPod.

"And what colors does this one come in? I'd really like something in neon green."

"You have that color, Al."

"I do? Huh, I thought I didn't. What colors do I not have?"

"I think purple and black."

She wrinkled her nose. "Fine, then do you have it in purple?" she questioned the poor man. He grabbed a box from behind the desk and offered it hesitantly, seemingly afraid of getting his hand bitten off if it wasn't perfect. "Hmm, yes, I think that will do. What do you think, Bella?"

"Looks great, Alice." I sighed.

"You want the black one, don't you? Admit it, you do. You want to replace Stella with the pretty, new, shiny, black iPod," she coaxed. "Please, let me buy it for you. You can name it Stella junior?"

"Stella is not to be replaced with a junior, Alice. I couldn't name it Stella junior," I exclaimed in mock horror.

"Fine, it doesn't have to be Stella junior. But do you want it?" she offered again.

I huffed and looked at the floor and immediately heard her squeal, her shoes tapping the floor as she hopped up and down. "One purple and one black one, sixteen gigs, please. And I need to go pick up a CD … can you hold these for me until I get back?" She batted her eyelashes at him a few times and he nodded, sighing with relief to be freed from the loon.

"Come on, Bella, we should get you some new CDs to fill the pretty iPod with. And of course we have to pick names." She grinned, grabbing my wrist again.

"No need to drag me, Alice. I'm a big girl thank you." She giggled, ecstatic that I'd relented and let her buy me something as expensive as an iPod.

We browsed the CDs, both of us picking up random ones that looked interesting or familiar from time to time.

"Bella? You haven't been eating again, have you?" Despite her asking, it was more of a statement than anything else.

"I didn't yesterday, no."

"And we were out of food the day before," she muttered casually, looking over the songs on another CD. "Did you go on a binge?"

"I … erm … maybe," I mumbled shamefully.

"Bella, you shouldn't be doing this to yourself. You're going to kill yourself one of these days," she whispered to me, pleading with me to stop.

I ignored her, walking a few feet away to see another CD.

"You know Jazz cares about you too." Her voice grew softer as she moved closer, keeping her tone hushed. "He's been working with this one girl, she was anorexic, and it's only been a few months, but she's almost better. I've met her before and she's told me how wonderful Jazz is and how she's so glad to be away from her demons, to be almost normal again. Ten more pounds and she'll be the average weight for her age and height." She put a delicate and pale, yet strong, hand on my forearm. "He wants to help you. He wants to help you so, so much. He worries about you as much as I do."

I turned, looking at the CDs that had been behind me.

"Bella, please. I don't want you to die. I love you too much for that. You can't keep doing this to yourself. It'll kill you. I can't lose my best friend. You told me that your mom's in awful shape and she's with Phil. Isn't Phil a drug dealer that specializes in ecstasy? Ecstasy, Bella. And your mom taught you all of this when you were so young. I probably don't even know everything you've done. At least talk to me about this. Don't keep it so bottled up and hidden from me."

"Stop it. Just … just stop," I murmured.

"No, Bella." Her voice grew louder, stronger, more confident. Suddenly she was six feet tall. "You need help. It needs to stop."

"Alice, _you_ need to stop. I'm perfectly fine and I don't need any help," I screeched. "Just leave me the fuck alone. I'm sick of you acting like my mother. I don't need your help and I'm sick of you trying to constantly enforce your help on me. It's not even just with this, it's with everything. With my money, with what I have, with everything I _do_. You never fucking stop. You meddle and meddle and butt your nose in where it's not supposed to be and I'm so fucking sick of it. Just leave me the fuck alone."

Her eyes were full of tears that threatened to bubble over. "If I leave you alone you'll be alone and you'll end up like your mother. I can't let that happen to you, Bella," she begged, knowing it was her last chance. Knowing I hated my mother for doing this to me. For teaching all of this to me.

"I'm done here, Alice. Go sleep at Jazz's tonight, please. Then you guys can discuss what a fucking nutcase I am and I can get some fucking peace for once and I can be left alone," I told her finally, walking away.

"We're not done, Bella. And you know that. You can't stay away forever because you don't want to end up like your mom. You left your mom alone and her life went to shit. You're not ready to end up like her just yet," she called after me.

I ignored the eyes of the innocent shoppers as I stormed out. I didn't know how I was getting home, I didn't care that I had just lashed out at the one person in my life that cared, the person that was practically forcing me to let her buy me an iPod. I just didn't _care_ anymore. I never seemed to care anymore.

I was fine. I was just fucking dandy. I didn't need her help.

I waited outside of the mall until a bus came, paying the charge and climbing on. I decided I would stop somewhere and get a meal. An honest to God meal that Alice couldn't challenge. And I would keep it down because I was fine. I could handle this and could take care of myself. My demons were my own and I could control them, if only a little.

_You don't want to control them. You want them to control you because you're spineless. You're nothing. You need something to dictate your every move because you don't know how else to function, you moron._

I bit my lip to hide the sob. I would eat this meal and I would keep it down because I was in charge, not them.

I got off at some random fast-food restaurant, grabbing ten dollars worth of food and ignoring the weird look the cashier have me. I knew I looked like a lunatic, crazed and twitchy. The fact that such a tiny thing like me was ordering all this food was odd as well.

I walked the two blocks back to my apartment, three bags of greasy food in my hands. Those three little bags of food seemed like the weight of the world. In _my_ hands.

_But you can't carry it._

I gritted my teeth, pushing the demons back and into a cage. I grinned stupidly once the voices had disappeared, satisfied I'd won for once.

Once safely back in the apartment, I pulled out a large package of fries, munching on them slowly. I knew the calories for everything in this meal by heart and couldn't help but count the calories with each fry.

_60 … 90 … 120 …_

Then I hesitantly pulled out a burger, knowing I was pushing my limit. A burger? With all the grease? I took a deep breath, determined to take the plunge, and shoved it into my mouth.

I ate quickly, ignoring the internal calorie count I took with every bite. Without hesitation, I grabbed a second burger, downing it in minutes.

I sat there, looking at the wrappers and the cardboard container, and couldn't help but shake as the realization of what I'd just done hit me.

_We told you that you couldn't beat us_, they hissed at me, still safely inside their cage.

I threw out the wrappers and the cardboard, chucking the two other bags in the fridge carelessly. I went into the kitchen, sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. I channel surfed, unable to settle on any one thing. My left hand twitched, unable to occupy itself, while my right hand changed the channel, adjusted the volume, and played with random buttons. My body ached to run for the bathroom, but I kept telling myself to fight back against the dictators. I was bigger than them, damn it, and I was going to fucking win this.

_No, you won't._

Half an episode of Friends, an infomercial for priceless jewelry on sale for ninety-nine, ninety-nine, and the ending of Everybody Loves Raymond later, I was running for the bathroom, the excitement coursing through my veins.

The freedom of it all rushed through me, making me float. I was no longer contained by gravity and was beyond emotions. Anger, frustration, pain and sorrow no longer existed.

I slumped away from the porcelain bowl, my back slamming into the side of the tub. I groaned as the high retreated, gravity forcing itself back onto me painfully.

_You didn't remember to lock the door._

* * *

**I had that last line planned since I first mentioned the cage earlier in the chapter. Probably why I wrote this so quickly and easily. And I'm thinking the next update will be Tuesday...depending on the response here. I'm hoping I'll stay ahead on chapters so updates will come quicker. Because I'm uber excited about the next chapter I get to write.**

**Don't forget this story is now on Twilighted, if you prefer there, and qjmom is awesome about getting the chapters up really quickly. Go join Edwardville (link on profile) because I love it more than my writing and I wrote in article on Wednesday about Making It In the Fandom and I, apparently, knew what I was talking about because a lot of people agreed with me. And I'm on twitter under breakdownslowly if you want to follow me. If you do request, as long as I can tell you like Twilight/fanfic, I'll accept you. It's mostly to keep the pornstars out.**

**And this...update's pimp is for In the Land of Milk and Honey by .magic. It's SUCH a good story, and ignore all the typos and such. Someone I know pretty well has picked up betaing duties and has been editing constantly since yesterday.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I was trying to get the next chapter done before posting this, but things kept popping up and I lost the flow of it and just couldn't write. But I can't make you guys wait any longer and I'll be going out for the night, so it'll be nice to come home to a bunch of reviews/alerts/favorites. This chapter's kind of short but I'm about half way done with the next chapter but I feel like I'll be able to write again by later tonight or tomorrow.**

**Thanks to BohemianBuffalo for betaing and I own nothing.**

* * *

*6*

I walked past it once, hesitated at the door, then continued on. I wasn't quite ready to go in yet. I took a deep breath, resolving to go in the next time I passed the store.

Then I kept walking past the entrance.

For thirty minutes I paced back and forth in front of that damned door, yet I couldn't make myself enter just yet. I was sure by now they were watching me, mocking me with their eyes and giggling behind their counter. But I just. Couldn't. Do it.

My phone vibrated once and I flipped it open quickly, desperate for the distraction.

**Dude, u better b in there getting #s now**

Good, old Emmett always knew. Dang intelligent marriage counselor.

I wrenched open the door, storming into the room without a second thought. Because if I hesitated the slightest bit again, I'd never make it.

"Eddie! Is that you? Gee, and I was just expecting a phone call! This is so much better," the blonde girl that worked with Bella squealed nasally, her voice reminding me of Fran Drescher's and the pitch nearly deafening.

"I, um, sorry. I lost the card and couldn't call. But do you know where – "

"Gawd, I was like so worried. I thought that I looked like shit that day or had lost my touch. Because if, like, I'd lost my touch, that whole modeling thing wouldn't work out well, ya know? It's like if you, as a doctor, lost his hands. It just wouldn't work." She giggled. Why was she still talking to me?

"I'm, um, sorry Tanya. But I … where is the girl that was working the register when I came in here last time?" I finally pleaded, unable to sit through anymore.

"Bella? She's a freak, but a good listener. Very quiet, though, and I think she actually likes working here. She's stocking shelves today – "

"Thanks, Tanya." I hurried towards the shelves, not wanting her to stop me again and mentally noting to myself that I shouldn't get a book to buy and risk having to deal with her.

I almost slapped myself in the head as I realized I hadn't even asked where the hell Bella was stocking the books.

_Browsing a bookstore to look for a gorgeous girl. Where's the problem?_

I went through each aisle slowly, my hands brushing the poor, orphaned books. Considering the fact that the store was in a more secluded area and few people really seemed to know about it, the shelves seemed fairly vacant. I briefly wondered if Bella might've been buying all the books.

Reaching the classics section, the first thing I noticed was a cart that my hip would've banged into with another step. Then I saw Bella, leaning on the shelf across from the cart on the floor while intently reading a book.

"Erm … hi?" I questioned hesitantly.

_'Hi' is not a question. You can't question if you're actually hi-ing someone. It doesn't work, moron._

She jumped, the book falling out of her lap. She looked at it mournfully, as if she'd lost something.

"Man, I didn't get a chance to save my page," she muttered. "Can I help you with something?" She looked up to me, confusion and disappointment in her eyes. "Oh! You. Hi." Her eyes lit up, a small smile forming in her features.

"Yeah. Me. Hi."

_Sped._

"I think you said that." She giggled, all thoughts of the book forgotten.

"Yeah, I guess I did." One of my hands reached behind me and began rubbing at my neck, a habit I'd picked up from my dad. "What're ya reading?"

_That's a great pick up line._

"_Wuthering Heights_," she stated quietly. "It's one of my favorites."

"Really? But the characters are so horrible."

_Yes, insulting one of her favorite books will so help you get her number._

"That's kind of the beauty of it, isn't it? They're the absolute worst examples of humanity, examples of what some real people are, and they can still feel something as good and pure as true love. Their love for each other is their redeeming quality, isn't it?" She blinked at me, her eyes rendering me speechless for a moment.

_You picked the wrong girl to try and debate literature with._

"But even their love destroys. Catherine loved Heathcliff, but ended up dying. She then proceeded to haunt him until he couldn't survive any longer and he died as well. Catherine's sickness could be said to have been caused by the war on her heart besides everything else. Her nerves were destroyed and that slowly destroyed her."

"That just shows how attached they were. Cathy died because she had nothing to fight for, in her opinion. She didn't truly love her husband and her daughter was just a part of him, and the man she did love couldn't be hers as long as she was on this earth. And then by dying, he was able to join her in the afterlife, whatever it may be," she argued passionately.

"Well, you probably know more about these things than I do. I read it once because I was forced to and then never felt the desire to pick it back up. It seems you've reread it many times and know it cover to cover." I smiled, internally sighing with relief as she smiled back.

"Everyone can have different opinions … Edward was it?"

_She remembered._

My heart fluttered as I nodded. "Cullen. Edward Cullen."

"Isabella Swan. But please, call me Bella," she offered. I stuck out a hand, her pale one grasping it and I pulled her up. She stumbled slightly, almost landing on me, but I caught her by the elbow. "Thanks. I do that all the time. And, erm, sorry."

I chuckled, her slight blush causing her to be all the more beautiful. "Don't worry about it. I'm a doctor, so I'm certified to fix you if you hurt yourself." Her blush deepened.

"Well, do you need anything?" she asked, brushing off her jeans.

_You. Forever. Please._

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those foolish thoughts.

"No? Then why are you here? If you don't need something, you should be flirting with Tanya, not me." She wrinkled her nose in confusion, reminding me of a small child.

_Just say it, stupid._

"There actually is something I need." I swallowed the tennis ball-sized lump in my throat. "Your number," I squeaked.

"Pardon?" A slight French accent slipped into her accent, and I couldn't help but wonder why it was there and if she had noticed it.

I cleared my throat, bringing myself back to my senses. "I need your number?"

_That's not a question either._

"To prank call me? Come on, I'm not that stupid." Her eyes turned cold and I could feel her withdrawing from me, the casual playfulness gone.

"No, I just … I wanted to call you, yes. But to arrange a … arrange a date," I stated finally, praying it didn't sound like a question, too.

"Yeah, okay." She snorted, lifting a book off the cart, looking at it, and placing it carefully on the shelf. She proceeded to pick up several identical books and place them right next to the first.

"I'm serious, Bella. I want to go on a date with you. Dinner, a movie, a picnic, ice-skating, lunch, breakfast, whatever you want. I'm not picky." I shrugged, hoping she'd realize I was serious.

"Look, we both know you really don't give a shit, so why don't you just go and have_ lunch_ with Tanya. I can manage the register for an hour or however long it takes to get you off."

"If I wanted to go out with Tanya, I would've called her and skipped this whole ordeal. I'm being serious," I assured her.

"I know your type. You're not really interested. You're either trying to mess with my head so you can go all Billy from _Never Been Kissed_ on me, or maybe you think you're doing the right thing and giving a freak a pity fuck. News flash, pity fucks don't count as community service." Her eyes flashed with anger, clearly showing her patience was on a fine line.

"First off, that's not me. I don't do this whole dating thing very often. And I've never even heard of _Never Been Kissed_, so I really don't know what that means. I definitely don't look for people to give out pity sex to either. Too much of a health risk," I rattled off, unable to believe she would really talk to me like this.

"Dude, whatever. Go talk to Tanya if you want an easy lay. I'd bring plenty of the best condoms around and get STD tested afterwards, but you can have fun and stop badgering the loners." She slammed a book on a shelf and turned to face me. "Now, I've got work to do."

"I'm not looking for sex, Bella. Honestly, I want to get to know you better."

"There's nothing to know," she stated flatly, placing another book on the shelf with tender care this time. "Tanya's not doing anything, go bug her."

"Won't you please just give me a chance? I'm not a bad guy, I swear. I spend my day at a hospital helping little kids and teenagers with eating disorders. I'm one of those guys you're supposed to trust and tell your kids to look for if they get lost," I tried to joke, failing miserably.

She flinched before her eyes narrowed into slits. "Alice sent you, didn't she?"

"_What_? I don't even know an Alice." Maybe this girl was insane and that's why she was acting like this.

She glared at me for another moment then let her eyes open fully again. "Yeah, you're not that good of an actor."

"Who's_ acting_?"

_You still wanna go out with the insane girl, Masen?_

"Listen, Eddie, I'm not the girl you want. Trust me on that. You'd have more luck with a whore, to be honest. I know several street corners where you can find one, if you're not sure where to go."

"You're crazy, you know that? You're not making any sense right now and I don't even know what to say anymore. Are you okay? Did you forget some medication this morning or something?"

"So you admit it? You want to go out with a lunatic? Honestly, I told you that you can't act that well. Did someone hire you? Tell me who so I can call them and tell them to find a new agency."

Something was definitely wrong with her head. "What are you _talking_ about? Are you high right now?"

"I'm not high. I've been sober for years, thanks for your concern."

"Then what have you been smoking or sniffing or shooting? Did you paint a room recently?" Something had to be wrong with her. She was so far from the girl I met the other day. "Oh, I get it. Do you have a fever? You must be pretty sick to be talking like this."

"I'm perfectly fine. Just a small headache from your badgering. I'm not going out with you. You're not getting my number. End of story," she decided finally. I almost backed off, but had to try at least once more.

"What will it take to make you believe me?"

"Oh, I get it. You were bet to go sleep with a freak, weren't you? Well, try somebody else. Maybe somebody at the homeless shelter can help you."

"Bets like that are stupid and the only person I bet with is a marriage counselor who encouraged me to come here today. Besides, there's something about you. At least let me take you out for coffee so I can get to know you better."

"No."

"Fine. But I'm not giving up on this. I'll come back every day if I have to." She wasn't like this the other day and surely this was just a side effect of something she'd been near or eaten or whatever. Maybe I could examine her someday to figure it out.

"Good luck with that. I'm not even here every day. And we're closed on Sundays. Not sure how you'll get in then," she offered sarcastically, looking at me with mock pity.

"Thanks. But I doubt I'll need it. I'm quite skilled at being persistent until others give in," I told her smugly, hoping I didn't come off as overly cocky.

"Well, that's certainly a drastic change in your demeanor. Now, really, I need to work, Doctor Boy. See ya next time I'm here while you're stalking." She pushed the cart away, not sparing me another glance.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be regretting not giving me your number tomorrow. And you'll be begging me to take your number next time we meet," I called, sounding far more confident than I felt.

_Crap. __Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap._

I marched out of the store, grasping to my last shreds of dignity as they tried to float away like balloons.

"Eddie! Eddie, do you still need my number?" I ignored the nasal calls, continuing out of the store.

The bell tinkled as the door slammed open and I could hear Tanya yell, "You'll be back right? If you pick up lunch, I'm good with just a salad!"

_Stupid store. Stupid you. Stupid Tanya. Stupid bell._

* * *

**Heh? **

**Nothing much to add here, except my next story rec. Facebook Friends by GreenPuma. It's only 3 chapters in, but it's really cute.**

**Still on twitter as breakdownslowly and I still encourage you to check out Edwardville. And the twitter for Edwardville. Ruby Wednesday, who wrote Heatwave, is blogging with us this week!  
**


End file.
